Voldemort's word was especially respected in his inner sanctum to prevent any mutiny that could infect the Wizarding community; still, they all thought Lucky bitch as they passed into the corridor to wait out Bellatrix-gate.
Naturally, Bellatrix raised a perplexed eyebrow at this immediate show of interest and knew instantly that she would be the Dark Lord's pet with a little persuasion.
"Pardon my saying so, but what was that? Can He-Who-Must-Not-be-Named not contain petty rivalries?"
The abomination that was once Tom Riddle loomed from his perch; his opinion of her could not be pinned even by Bellatrix's penetrating eye. He still retained some normalcy, but his pallor and blood-streaked eyes eerily chilled the soul, at least for those in his company who had full use of their souls. Sizing each other up, he snipped the tail end of the tension by ticking his tongue. "I sense greatness in you, but it is so dampened by your temper. See to it that you keep yourself in check in my presence."
Plumping her lips, she gave him an eye lashing, however, something in that moment was snuffed from Bellatrix, or perhaps it was smothered by something entering her mind. Obliging Voldemort, she purred, "As you wish, My Lord. Might I ask when we can being the trial?" Propping her chest against the table, she lowered herself to his level and hissed, "Well?" while absent-mindedly nibbling on the nail of her middle finger.
Glaring red, he slammed her into the far wall with a gesture of his translucent paw and howled. The witch's hair had been blown into a tangle and a glint of her eye betrayed her mad ecstasy when her frightfully twitching lips would not.
"Force is how you play then? Levicorpus!" A sneer of disguised lust crossed his features as the Dark Lord gazed upon the black lingerie that was revealed as gravity forced Bellatrix and her dress to part ways. Vulnerable as she was, the little crafty one called, "This is quite a riot! Could we switch places? I need to know how great this 'wand' of yours is." Both laughing uncontrollably, he gave her the hourglass treatment and she dusted herself off; pleased beyond reckoning.
Before Bellatrix could exhale, the holly weapon that had slashed fate's ribbons so many times previously was grazing the hollow of her throat and she screeching in agony as the Unforgivable Curse's magic set her pain receptors on fry. Tears were flung from nervous ducts as her eyes twirled in veiny rhythm, and the torture had only begun.
"Never forget that you belong to me." Entwining with her, he began probing her mind with his own, at first finding nothing of value but in delving deeper, he recovered a precious moment.
The child Bellatrix appeared to be preparing for her first journey to Hogwarts, tidily addressing the issue of packing her essentials, such as her lipstick and Medieval Mastery, her most recent literary find in her parent's library. Bellatrix had the potential to be the next Morgan le Fay for all of her treacherous good looks, even at eleven she would roll off the subdued wardrobe choices of her mother to be cast aside for tiny skirts and flattering lace tops.
Much to the girl's horror, she could hear the deathly faint touching of Mrs. Black's heels making their way down the corridor to greet her eldest daughter and the day. Every suspect object was hidden with uncanny speed. These included a bracelet that she had "borrowed" from her mother's jewelry hoard, copious amounts of cigarettes, and a baby blanket that she refused to part with.
What could have been Bellatrix's future self eyed the slovenly disarray of her daughter's living space and gave a minute shudder, but plastered on her best "tea-time company" façade while adjusting her skewed bathrobe, which had parted to reveal altogether too much bare skin. "Damn house-elves! Couldn't have spared the time to break out a broom, could they?" Rolling her eyes pointedly at her split-faced grinning offspring from her cross-legged seat on her trunk, she chattered, "I do hate that Muggle filth that you wear, but as you need camouflage, I can forgive it just this once."
Ignoring the jabs to her pride, young Bella crooned, "Mummy, I am just thrilled to be finally meeting all the other kids, but I do think that I will miss you most of all out of everything that I could possibly long for. Promise me you'll write, so I can go to school without feeling abandoned."
Her mother crouched down to look directly at her and sharply said, "I want to hear none of this about missing me. Remember what I said to you long ago about the Black clan?"
Bellatrix's shaded eyes glazed over as she quoted verbatim, "The noble and most ancient House of Black is revered like no other. Its members are gods in their own right and are of the purest lineage. Never neglect your blood."
"Good girl," her mother cooed as she snaked a fang-like nail beneath her daughter's tender flesh, rivulets of blood streaking her small jaw.